


It Doesn't Mean It Isn't Beautiful

by liketogetlost



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-09
Updated: 2011-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketogetlost/pseuds/liketogetlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So she'd watched as he'd let the last remaining relic of her species die and explode into pieces of disgusting bloody flesh that flew into different directions around the room. She was sitting across from him, whining that there wasn't enough vinegar on her serving and stealing random bites from his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Doesn't Mean It Isn't Beautiful

It shouldn't be this simple, he thinks.

Simple as five billion years into the future, _zip zip zip_ , and a first row seat to see the death of her home planet, and in the end, his hand taking hers is enough to stop her shaking as she watches the last bits of Earth burn up before her eyes.

“I'm a Time Lord.” He finally confesses, like he's at a traditional Catholic confession or something equally domestic. “I'm the last of the Time Lords, they're all gone.”

Again, it shouldn't be so simple when he asks her, asks her like he already knows, what she wants to do and his guts are already wrenched before she's answered, and she starts to speak but sniffs at the air instead like a rabbit or a puppy or something as equally adorable. So simple when her answer is just “I want chips”, and he has to laugh because it's the last thing he was expecting and it's just about the most perfect response to any question he's ever asked, and he's asked a lot of questions.

So they go for chips. A Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords and a girl he hardly knows but who's currently holding his hand like it's nothing, like they do it all the time. Simple as that. She pays while he tries not to feel awkward waiting for her to come back to their table.

So she'd watched as he'd let the last remaining relic of her species die and explode into pieces of disgusting bloody flesh that flew into different directions around the room. She was sitting across from him, whining that there wasn't enough vinegar on her serving and stealing random bites from his. He stares at her with a mix of wonder and annoyance on his face. The wonder because he doesn't think he's ever met anyone quite like her before and the annoyance because well, he's bloody well hungry and she keeps stealing the tastier looking chips from his pile.

He swats her hand away and she laughs loud enough to draw some stares which makes him laugh as well. And it's just that simple, two people, laughing in a chippy, and they could be anybody. But they're not just anybody, they're the Doctor and Rose and they've just been to the end of the world and back.

She doesn't ask him anymore about the war or his loss, though he knows she will, when the time is right. And he'll tell her, tell her everything she wants to know _because_ she'll know the right time to ask. How much he appreciates that, he doesn't think he'll tell her that, but oh, he does appreciate that.

They talk about anything _but_ , and he doesn't think he's ever been so interested in how someone manages to hop a school fence at three am in a skirt while all her bloke friends hollar at her from behind. Wild thing, this one is, he thinks. He tries not to stare while she speaks.

Back at the TARDIS, he has to pull his hand from her grasp to get the key from his pocket and his fingers slip against the warm metal inside his jumper, his fingers greasy from the chips and he smiles because she has the same grease on her hands. Everything seems so intimate suddenly and she starts to make jokes about walking him to his door and asking him if she's pulled since she paid for dinner.

It's complicated, how simple it all is. How the simple sight and feel of her giggling after teasing him and her slippery fingers tugging on the sleeve of his jumper can make him think so many things at once. Like wonder just how many times she does that tongue between her teeth thing, or if she's damaging the leather with the chip grease on her fingers. And how when she pulls at him like that, he feels like the force of gravity is pushing him closer to her because all he wants to do is step into her web and let her pull him as close as she likes.

He finally gets the key into the lock and tells her she has shell out a lot more cash to get into his trousers, and is shocked when she tells him next time it's lobster without batting an eye.

And then they're back in the TARDIS, and she isn't asking him to take her home. His stomach starts to grind again, and the food he just ate all combines into one big lump that threatens to sit heavy at the bottom of his gut for a while, a constant reminder that she could leave at any time and he'd be alone again.

Not that he couldn't handle it, he'd done it before. Still. She takes off her hoodie and throws it against a pillar like she's just walked into her flat after a long day at work and he smiles because she already looks like she's home.

She's back at his side, always at his side this one, and it feels nice. Still, he knows it might not last. Everything is so simple, so easy with her. He tells her _time_ and she comes running, he asks her _what now_ and she answers “Chips!”. He tells her he's a Time Lord from a lost planet that travels through time and space and shows people beautiful, wonderful, _horrible_ things and she's still here, by his side, casually wiping more chip grease onto her jeans like the young thing she is.

It can't stay this simple. He knows, oh he knows, _but_.

She's giving him that damn smile again and this time he has to show her the past. His fingertips tingle, itching to touch the controls of his ship and he wonders how she'd be in the 1800s. He's thinking 1860 to be exact, maybe Naples. At Christmas. He wants to see how she reacts to _that_.

"Rose, come here and hold this down, will ya?" She looks nervous suddenly, like she might break the huge clunking thing with her tiny, human hands. He grins at her, letting his eyes roam over her face challengingly. "Don't worry, it's simple."


End file.
